It Stands for Hope
by Ink Outside the Lines
Summary: Superman: The Animated Series. Superman's decision to take over the country came as a shock to everyone. His decision to step down and vanish years later was just as shocking. Kelsey is one of millions just trying to keep her small world together in the fallout; a task that gets more complicated when the Kent's missing and presumed dead son returns to Smallville. Clark/OC slowburn
1. Prologue

**NOTES:** This story is set in the alternate timeline/universe that was introduced in season 2 episode 12, A Brave New Metropolis. The ideas of that alternate timeline intrigued me; a world where Superman took over the country, but came to regret his actions and relinquished power. I was left wondering what might happen next. How does he make up for what he did? How does the country recover? How does this affect public perception of powered people/aliens? How does this affect the formation of the Justice League? Does the Justice League become a thing in this world? If it does, is Superman even a part of it? _Can_ people forgive him for what he's done? My goal is to deal with these questions and explore the fallout in this world.

**MORE NOTES:** While other heroes will eventually make appearances in this story, I'm running with the idea that Batman and Flash were the only other active heroes at the time that Superman/Luthor took over. Also, this will be a slow paced story. While there will eventually be supervillains and big fights, this is ultimately a story about forgiveness, redemption, and healing. It's going to take time. Another note, because I know this is sometimes a big deal for people, this will eventually be a Clark/OC story.

Hope y'all enjoy this story; if you do, please let me know!

* * *

**_Prologue _**

**o****r **

**_After the Fall_**

Clark had convinced himself that he was doing the right thing. He'd convinced himself that he was doing this for Lois, for the citizens he'd sworn to protect. He'd insisted that it was the for the best. That it was the only way to make sure he never failed anyone else the way he'd failed Lois.

He told himself it was the only way when he first spoke to Lex Luthor. He told himself it was the only way when he announced his intentions to the public. He told himself it was the only way when Batman and Flash tried to stop him. He told himself it was the only way when the military tried to stop him. He told himself it was the only way when the people tried to rebel against him.

The only way.

Of course, it wasn't. Not really. And if he'd been half the man he'd thought he was, half the man he'd been trying to be, Clark would have seen that from the start. It wouldn't have taken a Lois from an alternate universe to show him just how far he'd fallen. It shouldn't have taken her to make him see how deep Luthor's corruption ran.

_I should have known._

He should have been able to see how wrong he was. He should have been aware of everything Luthor was up to. Clark had been arrogant enough to think that fear of Superman would keep Luthor in check.

_I should have known._

And the worst of it was that Clark could have known. It wasn't that hard to find evidence that Luthor was taking things farther than Clark had ever intended. He'd just needed to _look_, but he hadn't. He hadn't truly wanted to know. Because if he knew what Luthor was really doing, what Clark had allowed him to do, then Clark would really have to face the extent of what he'd done.

_I betrayed everyone._

He'd betrayed the people he'd sworn to protect. He'd betrayed his parents, and the ideals they'd tried so hard to instill in him. Betrayed his friends, betrayed his country. Betrayed the trust people had placed in him.

There was no way to fix everything he'd done. Lives had inevitably been lost, much as Clark had tried to avoid it. Things could never truly be the way they'd been before. But some things…there were some things that could be repaired.

Clark stared at the monitors in the prison's main security room. He hadn't known about Luthor imprisoning citizens for even the most token of resistance against their rule, but Clark had known about this prison. He'd helped build it. Its population consisted entirely of former US politicians and military leaders, including the president that Clark had deposed in his takeover.

_This isn't much. But it's a start._

He pressed the button that opened everyone's cell. He watched as confused men and women moved out in the halls, listened to their confused chatter as they tried to understand what was going on.

Clark pressed the button for the intercom. "This is Superman."

They froze or flinched at the sound of his voice, and there was a dull ache in Clark's chest. Once, his words had inspired people.

_I earned this._

"I have decided to step down," he told them. "You are all free to go."

He wanted to add an apology to his message. He wanted to beg for their forgiveness. But he knew they wouldn't give it to him, and he knew he didn't deserve it anyway, so Clark kept that part to himself, and flew away. He had another prison to get to.

This prison was housed out in the Atlantic Ocean. Clark had also helped build this one, and it had taken more time and difficulty than the first one. It only housed two prisoners, but these two had come closest to stopping him.

There was no central way to unlock the cells. He'd have to take the elevator down to the main level and open the cells manually. A precaution against someone trying to rescue them, and one that Clark now regretted. He didn't want to face them after all he'd done.

The elevator opened, and he could see into both cells, and the prisoners inside could see him. Bruce Wayne and Wally West.

Batman and Flash.

Clark wished they'd succeeded when they'd tried to stop him.

"Well, if it isn't the mighty savior, Superman," Wally said, strolling up to the window of his cell. "We didn't even have to try and escape for you to visit this time."

The words were barbed, but not nearly as much as Clark deserved. It said something about Wally's character that even after all that had happened, after all Clark had done, Wally still didn't have it in him to be truly cruel.

"I'm here to release you both," Clark said. Both men looked startled, but Bruce recovered his wits first.

"Why?" he asked, his eyes narrowing.

"Because I'm stepping down," Clark said. "I've already released the political prisoners. This is the next step."

"And what's your buddy Luthor got to say about this?" Wally asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Luthor is dead."

Wally's jaw dropped, but this time Bruce didn't look surprised at all. Maybe he'd already figured out that Luthor was probably dead if Clark was doing this.

Clark almost explained what had happened, almost told them that he hadn't actually been trying to kill Luthor, he'd died because he'd been trying to escape, not because of anything Clark had done. Clark held the words back. It didn't really matter if he wasn't the cause of Luthor's death, did it? Not when he'd killed so many other villains that he'd decided were too dangerous to let live.

He was ready to be done with this conversation, so he moved to the door of Bruce's cell and punched in the code that would open it. The door slid open, and Clark didn't move from the doorway. Bruce didn't move either, his gaze watchful and wary. Clark thought about their last fight, about the trap that Bruce and Wally had pulled off that had _almost_ worked.

Clark tossed the small box he'd brought with him to Bruce, who caught it easily. "That'll give you a way to stop me, if you ever need to."

They shouldn't need to. Clark didn't think he'd ever make a choice like this again. But once he'd never thought he'd be capable of a lot of the things he'd done in the past few years. Clark didn't want to take the risk that he was wrong.

Bruce flipped open the lid, and a pale green light shone from the box. Even from this distance, Clark could feel the effects, could feel the kryptonite buzzing at him, sapping the strength from his limbs. He almost expected Bruce to go ahead and use the kryptonite. He wouldn't blame him if he did. Bruce had no reason to believe his words after all. No reason to trust that Clark was really walking away, that he wouldn't change his mind. He'd proved he was as big a threat to the world as his naysayers had always feared he would be.

Bruce glanced back up from the box, and snapped the lid closed. Clark's throat tightened. Bruce's capacity for mercy was so much more than Clark deserved.

"My name is Clark Kent. I expect that will be enough for the two of you to keep an eye on me."

Clark had guarded his identity with even more care once he'd decided to take the country than he had when he'd first started as Superman. He'd known what he was doing would make him even more enemies, and he hadn't wanted anyone to go after his parents to get to him. But he decided he could trust Bruce and Wally with this information. He was certain that when they found his parents, they wouldn't do anything to them.

Clark turned away and went to Wally's cell, opening his door too. Wally didn't even try to hide the suspicion on his face as he watched Clark. "Just what are you planning to do now?"

He paused. Clark hadn't really given any thought to his next step. He'd known he needed to do something to try and set things right, and this was the obvious thing to do. After this though, he wasn't sure what he could – or what he _should_ – do.

"I'm going home," he decided.

Clark turned on his heel and went to the elevator. He'd have preferred to just fly away, but the main level was under the ocean, so. But he stopped right before he got on.

"I know this doesn't mean anything." He didn't turn around when he spoke. He couldn't bring himself to look at them while he spoke these words, but the words refused to stay unsaid. "But I am sorry. For everything."

They didn't say anything. Clark hadn't expected them too.

* * *

Clark almost changed his mind several times while flying to Kansas. Once he actually changed direction and started heading for the Fortress of Solitude instead. He hadn't seen his parents in years, not since before he'd announced his intention of taking over the country.

He'd told his parents about his plans first. He hadn't wanted them to find out from the news.

Ma and Pa had tried to talk him out of it, and Clark had tried to make them see why he had to do it. The conversation had lasted all day, and by the end of it they'd realized there was nothing they could say to stop him. He could still picture the looks of devastation on their faces. But it had been devastation tempered with resolve.

"_We will not support you in this, son. Not now, not ever."_

He'd been hurt and angry, and as committed to his chosen path as they'd been to theirs. So he'd flown away and hadn't been back to see them since.

Clark couldn't imagine how they'd react to him showing up now. They might very well tell him to leave. They might say he was no longer their son. They were well within their rights to reject him; hadn't he rejected every ideal they'd taught him? Betrayed everything that mattered to them?

He didn't deserve their forgiveness. But out of everyone, his parents deserved an apology, and Clark was going to give it to them.

It was late when he arrived, carefully landing in the grass off the back porch. Despite the late hour, he knew they were still up. Clark could hear them in the living room, watching the news. There were already confused reports about what was going on, and if he was truly gone.

Slowly, Clark walked up the steps. Once, he wouldn't have hesitated to just walk in. Now, he did. He wasn't sure he'd be welcome.

_Not a good idea to stay out here in costume though._ The last thing Ma and Pa needed was for someone to spot Superman at their home. He tried the handle and found the door was unlocked.

They must have heard the door opening, because they were out of their recliners when Clark made it to the living room. They froze at the sight of him, and Clark stopped in the doorway, at a loss for words. For a minute, they just stared, and Clark noticed the little changes in them. They both had a little more gray in their hair, more lines around their eyes. He thought Pa had lost weight.

"Oh, Clark."

His mother's words were soft, and at the sound of her voice, something in Clark crumpled. He sank to his knees, the weight of all he'd done, all his sins, bearing down on him. He closed his eyes, but tears spilled over anyway. "I'm sorry," he choked out.

The words were wholly inadequate. They couldn't fix what he'd done, couldn't help any of the people that he'd hurt. But they were all Clark had to offer as he bowed his head. "I'm sorry."

This was the part where they should tell him to leave. They should tell him that what he'd done was unforgivable, that he was no longer their son.

They didn't.

They rushed to him instead, dropping to their knees beside him and wrapping their arms around him. Ma pressed kisses to his cheek.

"You're back, Clark," Pa said, his voice husky. "Right now, that's all that matters. You're back."


	2. It Took Me By Surprise

_**Chapter 1**_

**or**

_**It Took Me By Surprise**_

Kelsey woke abruptly, something smothering her face and making breathing a struggle. She snapped up, making her cat yowl indignantly as he tumbled off her face and into her lap. Kelsey brushed loose fur from her face and glared down at him. "It's what you get for laying on my face. I've told you not to do that."

Tux glared back at her, his green eyes gleaming. He hopped off her lap and down to the floor, tail twitching. He only made it as far as the bedroom door before he stopped and looked back at her, meowing loudly.

Kelsey sighed and looked at her clock, which declared the hour to only be six thirty. "You know it's Sunday. Can't you wait for breakfast one day a week?"

Tux looked unmoved by her whine. "I guess not. Dumb cat."

Kelsey kicked off her covers and stood, stretching for a moment. Tux darted down the short hall, through the living room, and into the kitchen. Kelsey shuffled after him, flipping lights on as she went.

"Yeah, yeah," Kelsey grumbled. "I know you're hungry. I should have named you 'Bottomless Pit' instead of Tux." She kept up the stream of commentary as she went to the pantry and got his bag of food. Tux meowed loudly, apparently deciding she wasn't moving fast enough. Kelsey arched an eyebrow at him. "Keep that attitude up, and I'll make you wait until after I've made coffee."

She poured the kibble in his bowl and barely backed away before he darted to it. She snorted. "People would think I starved you if they saw the way you eat."

Well, maybe not. Tux was a pretty big cat, pushing fifteen pounds. Still, he ate like he hadn't had a meal in days.

Kelsey got her own breakfast going; a pot of coffee and a bowl of cereal. She leaned on the kitchen counter and used her remote to turn the TV on.

Every news station was covering essentially the same story. Superman.

He'd abruptly stepped down two days ago, and no one seemed to have clear answers as to why. Apparently he'd had some kind of falling out with Lex Luthor, and Luthor had died in his attempt to get away from Superman, and it was after that that he'd announced his intentions to step down. Some speculated that perhaps Superman hadn't known about the worst of the things that had been happening, like the overzealous arrests, the kids being taken from their families and put in "state homes".

Kelsey snorted. "Right. The guy who can see through walls didn't know about the stuff that was happening under his nose."

Most of the commentators seemed to share Kelsey's thoughts on the matter. And a far more pressing issue than _why_ Superman had given up his position was how the country was going to move forward now.

Superman had released all the political prisoners, so the old president had reclaimed his position, but things were still chaotic. There was the question of who should fill other positions of course, and then there was the chaos of all the people who had been wrongfully imprisoned trying to go home. Then there was the question of what to do with people who genuinely _were_ criminals, but the legality of their imprisonment was in question. There were people who had lost their homes, their jobs. The hordes of parents demanding the return of their children. It was chaos for much of the country.

She pointed at the TV with her spoon. "And that, Tux, is why we moved to Smallville."

Smallville hadn't been totally isolated from the changes that had come with Superman's rise to power some years back, but it hadn't felt near the impact as the big cities, like Metropolis or Gotham. Kelsey had figured it wouldn't, and that was why she'd moved out there once Superman had announced his plans to take over.

Kelsey had finished her breakfast, so she opened the dishwasher to load up her dishes. She paused when she saw the dishwasher was already full of dirty dishes. "Oh. Guess I didn't turn it on last night. Maybe I can…?"

It didn't take much finagling to realize that she was not getting the other dishes in there, except for her spoon. "Darn it," Kelsey grumbled. She'd have to turn it on now and load the bowl and mug whenever it was done. She opened the cabinet under her sink where the kept the dishwasher detergent, only to pause again.

"Gah. So that's why I didn't turn it on. Out of detergent."

Kelsey scowled and shut the cabinet door. "Guess I'm going shopping today."

She put her dirty dishes in the sink for now, and turned the TV off before heading back to her room. There was a small pile of laundry on top of her dresser that she hadn't bothered to sort or fold yet, so she dug through it to find the first set of clean clothes she could, which turned out to be a blue plaid shirt and jeans. Then she wandered into her bathroom and ran a quick comb through her red curls, before pulling her hair back in a ponytail.

"And I'm set," she said. She went to her front door, and spotted Tux curled up in his usual spot on the couch, preparing for his after-breakfast nap. "Behave while I'm out," she told him. His tail flicked, which Kelsey chose to interpret as a sign of acknowledgement.

She went out her door, pausing to lock it behind her, then down her faded front porch steps to the old truck in her driveway. Kelsey opened the door and clambered into it, pausing a moment to adjust the pillow in the front seat to be more comfortable.

As old as the truck looked, most would probably expect it to sputter to life when she turned the keys, but it turned on easily with a quiet hum. The radio was preset to a country station, and Kelsey sang snatches of the verses as she pulled out of her driveway and started towards the town.

The small house she'd bought when she moved to Smallville was a little outside of town; her nearest neighbor was almost a mile away. It was radically different from how she'd lived in Metropolis, but Kelsey found she enjoyed having space to herself after all. It made things easier.

The roads were mostly deserted on an early Sunday morning, making the drive to town easy. Kelsey pulled into the parking lot of the general store – Smallville was quaint enough not to have any supermarkets – just as it opened.

"Good morning, Kelsey," Patty, the older woman who ran the store called out as Kelsey entered. "Nice day, isn't it?"

"Looks like it," Kelsey said, picking up one of the baskets stacked by the front door. She quickly moved into the aisles to discourage any further attempts at conversation.

That was the most frustrating thing about Smallville. The people.

She wasn't sure if it was a small town thing or what, but the people were all so _nosy_ and _chatty_. They always wanted to make small talk and ask questions about how others were doing and bring over casseroles and pies, and despite the fact that Kelsey had been living there for two years now, no one seemed to get the message that she'd really rather be left alone, thanks.

Kelsey had the layout of the store memorized, and made a beeline for the dishwasher detergent. _Might as well pick up a couple other things since I'm here._ She was out of peanut butter and bread, so she grabbed those, and a couple of frozen meals. _Oh, I should get a bag of coffee too. I'm almost out._

The bell over the front door jingled as someone else came in. "Oh, Martha!" Patty's voice rang out. "It's so good to see you!"

Kelsey grimaced at the bags of coffee. _Joy. She's here._

Martha Kent and her husband were Kelsey's closest neighbors, and the bane of her existence in Smallville. It seemed from the moment she moved to town, Martha and Jonathan had been determined to befriend her. Why, exactly, Kelsey couldn't fathom. She certainly hadn't done anything to encourage their overtures of friendship. But the lack of reciprocation and polite refusals never seemed to discourage Martha and Jonathan from dropping off food or inviting her to dinner or asking if she needed anything.

"Good morning, Patty," Martha said.

Kelsey put the coffee in her basket and stayed where she was. She didn't want to walk up to the counter while Martha was still there; she'd have to wait for her to move into the aisles if she wanted any hope at avoiding her. That plan meant she could overhear the entirety of Patty and Martha's conversation, and well, eavesdropping wasn't exactly Kelsey's intention, but she couldn't help it right now either.

"I heard the news," Patty gushed. "I'm _so glad_ Clark is home!"

…_Who?_

It took Kelsey a moment to place the name. Clark Kent, Martha and Jonathan's reporter son who'd gone missing in the wake of Superman's takeover. Kelsey had never met the man, obviously, but she hadn't been able to help hearing about him when she'd moved to Smallville. He was the only local who'd gone missing, and he'd been the talk of the town for a while – though only when the Kents weren't around. The general assumption was that he'd either been imprisoned the way many reporters had been, or somehow died.

"Thank you," Martha said, her voice warm and happy. "It felt like a miracle, him coming back to us."

_Huh. Well, good for them._

"Is he doing alright?" Patty asked. "I can't imagine what that must have been like for him, being locked up and never able to contact you or Jonathan."

Kelsey winced. The question might be innocently meant, but really, why would Patty think it was okay to say something like that? It'd only poke at still open wounds.

"He's as well as can be expected, I suppose," Martha said, her words more subdued this time.

Patty made a sound that was probably supposed to express sympathy. "Of course, of course. Well, if you need anything, anything at all, just let me know."

"I will," Martha assured her.

_Sounds like she's moving away from the register._

Kelsey tiptoed down the aisle, trying to keep her steps light – not easy, since she'd worn her heavy work boots. She rounded the end of the aisle and almost ran directly into Martha's shopping cart. "Oh!" Martha exclaimed, stopping just in time not to hit Kelsey. "I'm sorry, Kelsey! I didn't realize you were over here!"

_Dang it,_ Kelsey thought, but she managed a polite smile. "No problem. My fault."

She sidestepped to get around the cart, hoping that might be the extent of their interactions. Surely Martha had more pressing things to concern herself with today.

"Actually, this is perfect timing," Martha said, and Kelsey came to a stop, glancing up at the other woman.

"…It is?" she asked, suddenly wary. Was this about to be another dinner invite? Because she didn't want to, and Kelsey was running out of polite ways to say no.

Martha nodded. "Dave told me how you're good at fixing appliances, and my stove has been acting up something awful. Jonathan tried to fix it himself, and I swear the man just made it worse. Do you think you could look at it? We'd pay you of course."

Kelsey rocked back a little on her heels. _Dave talks too much for his own good._ She shouldn't be surprised. It wasn't like he ever really stopped talking while they worked in his auto shop. Two weeks ago his fridge had gone out, and Kelsey had repaired it, and the old man hadn't stopped gushing about it for hours. Honestly, she should probably be surprised it had taken anyone else this long to ask for help, considering the number of people he'd probably told.

But, well, it wasn't like what he'd said was wrong. Kelsey was good at fixing most any machine when she set her mind to it. Whatever was wrong with Martha's stove probably wouldn't be all that challenging for her.

"I guess I could look at it," Kelsey allowed.

"Wonderful!" Martha smiled, the warm expression crinkling her brown eyes. "When can you come by?"

Kelsey tilted her head, considering. As much as Martha cooked, she'd probably want the stove fixed sooner rather than later. Kelsey didn't have to work on Sundays, and she didn't really have anything else going on. "I can come by around two today, if that works for you," she offered.

"Two would be perfect," Martha agreed. "Thank you so much, Kelsey."

Kelsey just shrugged. "Don't mention it."


End file.
